


Flash Photography

by OperaPhantom



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Photographer, F/M, Fluff, Jaimsa, Model Jaime, Modern Era, Modern Westeros, Nice Tywin, POV Jaime Lannister, POV Sansa Stark, Photographer Sansa, Sansa Stark-centric, nice cersei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 10:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30121272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaPhantom/pseuds/OperaPhantom
Summary: Thanks to a last-minute cancellation, Sansa Stark gets the chance to photograph Jaime Lannister. Jaime Lannister, male model extraordinaire. Jaime Lannister, the son of her mentor. Jaime Lannister, the man she's had a crush on for years. Jaime Lannister, the model who could make or break her career. All she has to do is keep her cool.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	Flash Photography

Jaime glared at his phone, deeply tempted to throw it across the room. He didn’t really care if it broke. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to buy a new one. Being a Lannister had its perks, especially being _the_ Lannister model. Companies would happily give him a new phone if he would pose with it. He’d been modeling for thirty years now. He and Cersei had started out as young kids, following in their mother’s footsteps. When Cersei was in her late twenties she’d quit modeling to become a designer, but Jaime loved the cameras as much as they loved him. He loved the clothes, the glamour, and the parties. He also loved the hard work that few people realized modeling entailed.

What he didn’t like was flakiness. The photographer he was supposed to work with had rescheduled for the third time. He didn’t care if Joffrey was his nephew, he was a spoiled brat. Jaime had agreed to work with him a few times so that the young man could build his portfolio and gain the necessary contacts. It was a favor to his sister more than to his least-liked nephew. Everyone had hoped Joffrey would finally do something other than live off his parents. But the boy was only interested in sleeping with models and attending parties, not working photoshoots. If Jaime had any say, this was the last time he tried to help Joffrey.

His phone chimed, letting him know he had a new text. It seemed they’d gotten another photographer for the shoot. They didn’t say who it was, which he didn’t appreciate. He hated surprises. Well, at least when it came to photographers. He just hoped whoever it was, they’d be professional. It was always embarrassing when photographers fawned over him, trying to ingratiate themselves with him to give their own fame a boost. Yes, he was Jaime Lannister, male model extraordinaire and son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, one a famous fashion photographer and the other a famous model. They thought he was foolish and gullible just because he enjoyed the lifestyle that came with fame. But he wasn’t stupid. He’d grown up in this life and had his parents to guide him; he knew how many people wanted to use him. And the last thing he needed was another photographer trying to sleep with him for some extra notoriety.

He sighed. No matter what happened with the photographer, he himself had a reputation for professionalism to maintain. Grabbing his bomber jacket, he strode out to his garage. Inside were several motorcycles and cars, for occasions ranging from everyday driving to impressing a date. Maybe it was an extravagance, but he decided to take his favorite luxury car, an electric blue Aston Martin DBS Superleggera Volante. Well, it was his favorite modern car anyway. His absolute favorite was his bottle-green 1961 Jaguar E-Type, but that classic car went nowhere near city traffic. It was his baby, a surprise gift from his whole family for his thirty-fifth birthday. It handled like a dream, and looked even better. He trusted himself and his car, but not the other drivers.

The rumble of the engine helped to soothe him as he drove into Lannisport. The engine’s purr stopped as he found a spot in the parking garage of Cersei’s label. Golden Queen didn’t focus only on women’s clothing; they also had lines of jewelry, fragrances, and men’s and children’s clothes. Jaime would be modeling a few items from their upcoming business and evening lines. As he made his way to the shoot, he focused on maintaining his legendary professionalism and poise no matter what this photographer was like.

* * *

Sansa chewed her lip, full of nervous excitement. The smooth, commanding voice of her mentor broke her from her thoughts.  
“Stop that. You’ll do fine.” Tywin barely glanced at her, instead watching the assistants as they brought in racks of clothes and making sure they put them in the proper places. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t know you could do this.”

She nodded, but she wasn’t completely convinced. It was like when Tywin had come to her photography class and asked her to work for him. She’d originally been a business major, a degree suitable for her future helping her family run Stark Industries. The photography class was just to meet a general education requirement. Instead, she’d found her passion. It was after Tywin had come to her class for a guest lecture that she’d switched; he recognized her talent and passion, he said, and wanted to help her succeed. Honestly, she doubted her parents would have taken the news as well if Tywin Lannister, by far the biggest name in fashion photography, hadn’t been the one to encourage her and be her mentor. Even after three years, she still had to work hard to convince her parents that it was a viable career.

This job would go a long way to soothing her parents’ fears. Not only was it her first big job, but it was with Jaime freaking Lannister! He was _the_ model to photograph. It wasn’t just his looks, but also his work ethic and professionalism. Besides, no one could take a bad picture of Jaime Lannister, not even the paparazzi. He was too photogenic. Jobs would come pouring in when someone had a session with him under her belt, figuratively speaking. Not that she wouldn’t mind it literally, a treacherous part of her brain supplied.

Pushing aside those thoughts, she realized Jaime Lannister was also the only Lannister she didn’t yet count as a friend. Somehow —Sansa thought it was due to her parents disapproval of her career change— somehow, she’d become close with the entire family, even Tywin’s siblings. She and Cersei had regular girl’s nights, and Cersei regularly used Sansa for her label’s shoots, giving a boost to Sansa’s professional reputation; Tyrion used his connections to get her invites to every runway show and designer showcase; Joanna, Kevan, and Genna were always willing to be her practice models for shots to expand her portfolio.

Jaime, on the other hand, he was different. She’d certainly heard of him and seen him before; she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but her sister and closest friends, but she’d actually had a crush on him for years. However, she hadn’t actually met him, not even at one of the Lannister get-togethers. Which wasn’t all that surprising, given how in-demand he was. That probably left him with little free time. And she was only getting started in the industry; her skill and being the protégé of Tywin Lannister himself wasn’t enough to get her jobs on the level of Jaime’s photoshoots. At least, not before now.

Speaking of Jaime Lannister, he swept in five minutes ahead of schedule. He was impeccably dressed, but casual; a leather bomber jacket over a scrumptious looking navy sweater, dark jeans, and low boots, all from designer labels Sansa recognized. Tywin walked over, sticking to just a handshake but still giving his son a warm smile.  
“Dad! I didn’t know they dragged you into this,” Jaime exclaimed, his eyes widening in pleased surprise.  
“Jaime, you look well. And they didn’t, I just happened to be with who Cersei got to step in. Come meet the photographer,” Tywin said, leading Jaime over to Sansa.  
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then stuck out her hand. Keep it professional. “Hello, Mr. Lannister, I’m Sansa Stark. Thank you for still being available.”  
Jaime gave her his trademark smile as he shook her hand. “Call me Jaime, Ms. Stark, Mr. Lannister is my dad. And thank you for coming on what must have been _very_ short notice.”  
“It’s the least I could do for Cersei,” she replied truthfully, “and I’m still relatively new to the industry, so I can use the reputation boost that comes with this shoot. By the way, call me Sansa. Everyone else in your family does, so why should you be any different?”

Jaime laughed, his head thrown back, and Sansa felt her heart stutter. He was more than gorgeous, and he was standing in front of her, laughing at something _she’d_ said. Nymeria and Tyene Sand, the hair and makeup stylists for this shoot, came over to take Jaime for their own work. He nodded at Sansa and Tywin before he followed them. Sansa took a deep breath, steadying herself.  
Tywin patted her shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he said, mistaking the reason for her nervousness. “Trust your instincts, and don’t let my son push you around. I taught him better than to upset a photographer,” he said with a sly smile. “Now, I’m going to get some coffee and catch up with my daughter. Enjoy yourself, my dear.”

Tywin walked off with a wave, leaving Sansa on her own. And really, all she had to do was treat Jaime like she would any other model. Yes, he was Jaime Lannister. But she was Sansa Stark, protégé and successor of Tywin Lannister. She could do this. Tywin trusted her. Jaime wasn’t like some of the other models she’d worked with, full of demands and tantrums. All she had to do was be professional.

Jaime stepped out from the dressing room in the first outfit, a couture tuxedo. Sansa had a plain white backdrop and two mock room set-ups to choose from. The first was done in browns and greens, but it wouldn’t go well with the black tux. Instead, they were using the other set-up, one made to look like an Art Deco bar.  
She gestured to the bar. “We’ll be using this for the tuxedo, along with the plain backdrop. I’ll be taking both color and black and white photos.”

Jaime nodded, and they all got to work. He followed Sansa’s instructions to the letter, but he also wasn’t afraid to politely let her know when he felt something wasn’t working. There was no complaining from him, no whining like other models she’d worked with —gods, just last week Harry Hardyng had acted like he knew more about photography than she did! Jaime was a consummate professional, and Sansa understood it wasn’t just his looks and name that had photographers leaping at the chance to work with him.

Just after they finished the photos with the plain backdrop, the doors burst open. Joffrey swaggered in, wearing sunglasses even now and obviously hung-over. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he took in the now-still room.  
“What’s going on?” he screeched. “Who gave the go-ahead for this? This is my shoot!”

From the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Jaime start to walk over just as Joffrey got in her face. “You!” he screeched, jamming his finger at her. “You stole my shoot! Don’t tell me you actually think you’re good enough for my mom’s label?”  
Sansa stared blandly at him, ignoring his attempts to rile her up. She knew his tricks; he wouldn’t get her to make a scene. “You’ll have to take that up with Cersei and Tywin. They’re the ones who called me in.”  
“After you said you weren’t available and tried to reschedule, _yet again_ ,” Jaime drawled, coming to stand behind her. His solid presence at her back was a reassuring comfort. This time, she wasn’t alone.  
Joffrey huffed, tousling his artfully styled blonde hair.“I thought I wouldn’t be, but I am now. It’s _my_ shoot, Uncle Jaime! You said you’d work with _me_!” he whined.  
“Yes, I said I would _if_ you put in the effort.” Jaime shook his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve flaked on a shoot. You want the status of a photographer, but not the work. I’m not putting my reputation at risk because you’re too lazy to get it together.”  
“But we’re family,” Joffrey pleaded. He didn’t hear Tywin and Cersei come in; someone must have texted them, Sansa realized. Both of them were looking decidedly unimpressed with Joffrey’s antics.

Seeing Jaime wouldn’t budge, Joffrey turned back to Sansa. “This is all your fault,” he spat at her, his spittle barely missing her shoe. His eyes narrowed in hatred. “Is this some plan of yours to get back at me? By ruining my career?”  
Sansa felt her temper, what her family called the “Ice Wolf”, come to life. She was fed up with Joffrey and his nastiness. “Everyone knows you don’t need my help for that,” she remarked with a neutral smile. Several someones tried to cover up their laughs with coughing, and Sansa inwardly preened —glad that she was finally around people who understood how nasty he was— as Joffrey wilted.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he blustered.  
It was all she could do to keep from rolling her eyes. Luckily for Joffrey, Jaime cut in before she could make another withering remark that wasn’t so polite.  
“It means you’re damaging your own career with your partying and irresponsibility. All you’re getting a reputation for is your unreliable behavior. Most people won’t hire you because half the time you try to reschedule not long before the shoot starts, and when you do show up you’re either hungover or drunk. And I won’t even start on the abysmal quality of your photos.”

Joffrey spluttered, and Sansa could see the steam coming from his ears as his tiny brain worked overtime to comprehend Jaime’s polite dressing down. Either unwilling or unable to talk back to his uncle, he turned his attention back to Sansa.  
“Is this some ploy to seduce my uncle? Steal my shoots with him and make yourself look good? If I wouldn’t screw a frigid cow like you, what makes you think he will?”  
Sansa flushed with anger. Trust him to make it about sex. Trust him to try and make it seem like he was the one to refuse. He’d been desperate once she’d grown out of her awkward gangly years, but she’d known him all her life and knew exactly what he was like; no way in the seven hells would she ever do anything with him.

A rustle of fabric behind her was the only warning as Jaime stormed forward to stand in front of Joffrey. Cersei and Tywin surged forward as well, fury etched on their faces as they stood behind their oldest child and grandchild. Joffrey was caught between them, and completely unaware of the storm about to break on him.  
Jaime pulled Joffrey up by his collar, the several inches of height difference making the younger man stand on tiptoes. Joffrey’s eyes grew wide as he saw all the angry faces staring at him.  
“You will apologize to Sansa,” Cersei hissed at her son, poking his chest with a perfectly manicured nail, “and you will do it right now.”  
Joffrey’s throat worked, and Sansa knew he was trying to figure out if he could worm his way out of this. Nothing would ever make him accept responsibility for his mistakes.  
Tywin leaned forward to whisper something in his grandson’s ear. Sansa couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was made Joffrey blanch whiter than her backdrop.  
“Sorry, Sansa,” he whimpered.

He thumped back onto his feet when Jaime released him. Tywin grabbed Joffrey in an iron grip, steering him out of the room.  
“I’m so sorry-” Cersei started, but Sansa waved her off.  
“It’s not your fault. If people could really rule their kids, mine would have me stuck back up North,” Sansa joked with a shrug.  
Cersei grimaced, then gave Sansa a quick hug. “Bobby and I are still going to have words with him,” she promised before she left the room.

People were staring, so Sansa gave them all a look. “What are we standing around for? We still have to finish this shoot.”  
“Are you sure?”  
Jaime’s soft question made Sansa cock her head at him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I finish?”  
He frowned, his eyes shadowed. “My nephew—”  
She shrugged. “Joffrey has always been a vile, loathsome, evil little cockroach. Actually, that’s an insult to cockroaches.” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve known Joffrey since we were kids and I’m no stranger to his charming personality. It doesn’t affect me anymore.”  
“He is vile,” Jaime sighed as he shook his head. “Both Cersei and Robert are good people; no one knows how he got to be such a little creep. Still, I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”  
Sansa smirked. “The way your father looked, I doubt I’ll have to deal with him for some time.”  
Jaime laughed again, but it was hollow compared to the first time she heard it.  
She clapped him on the shoulder, grinning at him to try and lighten the mood. “Now come on, we’ve got a shoot to finish. Let’s make it awesome and rub it in his face.”

The stylists swarmed in, fussing over Jaime’s hair and clothes and makeup to make sure things were just so. When they were finished, he went back over to the bar. He followed Sansa’s instructions, posing exactly how she wanted. But the photos… they felt flat, especially compared to the ones before.  
She sighed. “Jaime, do you want to take a break?”  
He started. “No, why? Do you?”  
“No, I don’t. But whatever’s going through your head is wrecking our photos,” she said bluntly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Sansa knew Tyene was grumbling in frustration.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I feel terrible Joffrey went after you like that, making it about sex.”  
She thought it was something like that. “Yeah, Joffrey’s terrible and I shouldn’t have to deal with him,” she said, crossing her arms. “But I’m a female fashion photographer whose parents think she should go back for her business degree and help out with the family company like I was _supposed_ to before I got “distracted”,” she said with air quotes. “On a regular basis I deal with people, both models and photographers, who either think they know more about my job than me or want to sleep with me. As much as it frustrates me, I also know the best revenge is a life well-lived despite their idiocy. So I do my best to ignore them, and so should you.”

Then she did the only thing she could think of: she stuck her tongue out at him. She must have shocked or surprised him, because he burst out laughing. This time it was a genuine one, clear and bright. His posture relaxed, and his eyes regained their sparkle.  
She smiled brightly, happy to see the change in him. “And he’s back.”  
He smirked at her. “Damn right I’m back. Shall we finish the shoot?”

The rest of the shoot flew by. The photos were even better than the ones before Joffrey. It was like Jaime upped his game, showing off like a peacock, and Sansa loved it. She hoped this wasn’t the last time they worked together. Jaime was the best model she’d ever worked with. When she had to switch lenses, change the camera settings, or move something with the set, he kept his focus on her instead of larking about. He chatted and joked with her, but not to the point it affected his work. He was _fun_. And he was easy on the eyes, a little voice inside her pointed out. A voice she studiously ignored in the name of professionalism.

Sansa was pleasantly surprised when Jaime waited around until she was done to walk with her to the parking garage. Hefting her camera bag onto her shoulder, she smiled at him when he held the door for her. Just as they reached the garage, Jaime turned to her.  
“Listen, I feel terrible about what happened with the shoot. Can I make it up to you somehow? Another job, or dinner, or—”  
She blinked. “Did you just say dinner?” Holy bleep, did Jaime Lannister just ask her to dinner?  
“With me, yes. Or without me,” he quickly clarified, “if you’d rather have dinner by yourself, or with your partner.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, apart from the Joffrey thing, I enjoyed doing the shoot with you. You’re one of the best photographers I’ve worked with, and I’d love to do it again. No one’s ever stuck their tongue out at me before. Well, apart from Cersei when she’s being a brat,” he laughed.

Jaime freaking Lannister wanted to work with _her_? Sansa had to bite her low lip to keep from smiling like a goofball. “I enjoyed it, too. You’re one of the best models I’ve ever worked with.”  
“Only one of?” he asked, a teasing grin on his face and a sparkle in his emerald eyes.  
She nudged him with her shoulder, and he grinned even more.  
“I see I’ll have to up my game,” he quipped. He grew serious. “Apart from working with you more, I’d also like to get to know you better. As you said earlier, I’m the only Lannister who isn’t on a first name basis with you. I’d like to fix that. Would tomorrow work for dinner? You could bring your boyfriend —or girlfriend, or partner, or…” He trailed off, shifting his weight. A faint flush stained his cheeks.  
She blinked. Could he be…? “I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. Is this your way of asking me on a date?”  
“Not if you don’t want it to be,” he told her, sincerity shining in his eyes.

Holy fork. Sansa was 70% sure she’d fallen into an alternate dimension, but she liked it too much to go back. Were it any other model, she’d turn him down in a heartbeat. But this wasn’t any model, this was Jaime Lannister. Not only was he the man she’d had a crush on ever since she started having crushes, she also knew the way his family spoke about him. He wasn’t like other models, looking for another conquest; in fact, Cersei had mentioned the other day how Jaime had given up one-night stands a few years ago. And she was comfortable with him; talking with him was as easy as breathing. How many bad dates had she been through with less to go on than this? He was worth a chance.

She smiled at him and gently touched his arm, drawing his eyes back to hers. “I’d like that,” she told him.  
His eyes lit up. “Great!” he said, a little too loud. He cleared his throat. “Great. Are… are you free now?”  
“It’s not exactly dinner time,” she teased.  
He chuckled sheepishly. “Can we turn that dinner into lunch?”  
She nodded. “Absolutely. Is it all right if I ride with you? Your dad drove me here.”  
“Absolutely,” he echoed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a Jaimsa fic I've been working on for a few months. I got inspired by the photo I used in the picset, the one with Sophie sticking her tongue out. A photographer did that when I was little during a family photo, and everyone genuinely laughed, giving us the best photo from that time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
